It sucks that my first post from Lappy 2000 is a sad one.

Wee Colleen, my family's mini dachsund, died last night at the age of 13 and a half. She lived with me in my apartment when I was a senior in college, then Emily took over dog duties when I moved to a house. Em took her to College Station to see her boyfriend and left her in her carrier to go to a party, came home and found that she had died in her sleep.

Most people knew Colleen as a mean, toe-biting yapper. She was the runt of the litter, and I think that effected her brain a little. All throughout my childhood I begged my parents for a dog. I had horrible allergies, so the answer was always "no", and I would get a hamster instead. Until...the 'rents decided to do a trial separation when I was 10. My mom told my sister and I after a magial trip to disney world. We took it so hard I think the dog was our consulation prize. That dog was the glue to our broken family. Mom presented us with a 2-lb dachsund puppy. A brown, short-haired, because that was the only breed that I wouldn't be all that allergic to. We named her Wee Colleen because we got her on St Patrick's Day, 1993. We knew nothing about the breed; how they're hard to train and while loyal and sweet to their owners, fiercely protective when it came to intruders. We took her everywhere. When she got fixed, my mom felt so bad that we drove through McDonald's on the way home to buy her her own cheeseburger. That dog had an iron stomach. My sister brought home a quarter-pound hershey's kiss from 5th grade Valentine's Day once, and the dog sniffed it out of her backback and well, we found red foil around the house for weeks. The vet said it was a miracle she didn't go into shock.

My parents got a real divorce, and my mom remarried. My 14-yr old self smiled with malicious delight when Colleen would snarl at my step-dad. It was funny to see a grown man be so afraid of an 8 pound dog. She then got banished to the upstairs and became solely me and my sisters' responsibility. She spent her last days sleeping, eating, biting our boyfriend's toes, and peeing on the floor when she was mad at us. In those last years you couldn't blame her; she was just an old grumpy lady. She was the best snuggler, though. Soft, floppy ears and a silky coat.

I hope my sister brings home her ashes. We need to find a nice park. For now though, I hope she's in Dog Heaven eating people food and biting Jesus' toes through his sandals.

Goodbye Colleenie Weenie, I love you,